Cryptid Messages
by ZorasimplyZora
Summary: It's Lassie's worst nightmare when his main witness is an insubordinate teenager. But all is not as it seems... and there's a body count on the rise. Lassiter's going to need more coffee. And a bottle of whiskey.


It was midafternoon, a perfectly sunny day in perfectly sunny Santa Barbara. And in interrogation room one; it was the match of the century. In one corner, it was Lassiter, running on 3 hours of sleep, 10 cups of coffee and trying to solve 1 possible murder. On the other side, there was one pissed very insubordinate teenager in a leather jacket. Ahem, aviator jacket.

It was midafternoon, a perfectly sunny day in perfectly sunny Santa Barbara. And in interrogation room one, it was the match of the century. In one corner, it was Lassiter, running on 3 hours of sleep, 10 cups of coffee and trying to solve 1 possible murder. On the other side, there was one pissed, teenager in a leather jacket. Ahem, aviator jacket.

The teen had been busted for underage drinking… after she called in a dead body. So Shawn was happy to be watching from behind the glass. He was already on her side, since the blood alcohol content was barely registerable.

The Head detective glared at her, while she leaned back, her expression nonchalant. "Can you tell us more about the dead body?"

"Again, what else is for me to say? I found the poor woman maybe thirty seconds before I made the call. Didn't see any signs of life, didn't expect any either. I… admit I did not check for a pulse though." She said that last part quietly, as if embarrassed by it. A thick accent laced her voice; she was either from New York City or New Jersey. "There was a shit ton of blood on her."

"What were you doing with a knife?" her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms.

"Swiss army knife, goddammit. And I came to Santa Barbara to camp, of course I had a knife. But you know it's red because of the paint, not because of blood, right?" Lassiter clenched his fists, and the teen eyed them carefully. She paused, a touch hesitant about her next words. "Besides, I heard you talking with the blonde when you first came. She seemed convinced it was an animal attack."

Lassiter rolled his eyes, and the teen tensed, looking like she wanted to smack him. "Early indication shows yes, it was likely an animal attack. But you are still suspect." She shifted, looking Lassiter in the eyes, chin raised.

"For fucks sake! I was this close to vomiting at the sight of it," she ranted, pinching her fingers together. The body was _partially eaten._ Look me in the eyes if you're going to call me Hannibal Lecter." Lassiter cracked, looking away. _Teen 1, Lassiter 0_. "Plus I'm 90 percent sure a werewolf did it."

"Alright, fine. But, Ms. Leeds, you're staying in a holding cell to sober up until we find your campsite."

Leeds glared at the detective, and Shawn snickered. But at the same time, her head turned, and she looked directly at Shawn. Her eyes seemed to glow in the poor lighting, a bright cyan. Maybe just a trick of the light, but Shawn shivered. Leeds raised her eyebrow for a millisecond, and then looked back at Lassiter.

She put her elbows on the table, weaving her fingers together to rest her chin on her hands. She smiled at Lassiter, and Shawn could have sworn she batted her eyelashes at the detective. There was a black ring on her left hand, with glass orbs embedded in it.

"Counterproposal. I'll take the booze charges and you let me leave now. Hell, you can drive me there."

"I have men searching the forest already, and there is something very dangerous on the loose. Just stay here a day or two."

Before she could reply, the walkie-talkie crackled on. "Officer down in Los Padres Forrest, near highway 154," Lassiter got up, reaching for the door. Leeds looked hesitant again, frowning as she looked at the door.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but nah. I don't think so," Lassiter reached for the metal handle, yanking it. The door didn't budge.

The lamps flickered; once, twice. Then the room plunged into darkness.

Lassiter cursed, pulling out his phone. And for a moment, Shawn could have sworn he saw a pair of red eyes staring at him. Then something brushed passed his shoulder.

The lights returned.

And the girl was gone.

Lassiter leaned over the table, plucking up a beige business card. On one side, were three pine trees, ringed by the _words ~Sto procul quadrivium~ Sto in obscurum._ On the other side, in a beautiful cursive were two words.

 _Fuck you._

Shawn reached into his pocket, finding parchment under his fingers. In his hand was a near identical business card. This one read:

 _Hello, Shawn Spencer._


End file.
